Wrong Man, Right Kiss by Red Garnier

have to kiss you now,” he purred, the words acting like foreplay as he leaned closer. He could almost taste the gloss on her lips already.
    “O-okay, Jules,” she said, almost a squeak as she gripped the rolled-up sleeves at his elbows as though hanging on to him for dear life.
    Swamped with every single emotion in the world and close to exploding with wanting her, he cupped her face between his large hands and lowered his head, his heart going a powerful baboom baboom baboom . “‘Okay, Jules’? Is that all you have to say? All right, then, you asked for it, Moo…now you’re getting it good…”
    He started easy, her face framed in his grasp as he lightly set his lips on hers, but with that whisper touch alone, lightning streaked across his veins and seared their mouths like fire. Suddenly, that single, wholly erotic fusion of their bodies lit his entire being on fire. He grabbed her closer, and she slid her hands up his bulging arms, their mouths parting hungrily in unison.
    Groaning as her plush lips opened for him, he plowed his tongue into her mouth in a thirsty search for hers. Her soft moan tumbled down his throat as she shyly licked him back.
    She tasted like peaches. And he loved peaches.
    Deepening their kiss, he trailed his open palms down to the small of her back and conformed her curvy body to his. Her breasts softly pressed against his diaphragm, and it drove him crazy when she rubbed the tips of her nipples up against the wall of his chest.
    Her nails bit into his shoulders while her mouth eagerly explored his, and when her hips began rocking against his, too, his senses swam with both pain and euphoria. The pain came from his pulsing length pressing against his pants zipper, aching to grind against those luscious hips she taunted him with.
    His fingertips dug into her waist as he crushed her tighter to him, and plunged deeper into her mouth, stealing dozens of incredibly sweet and wet tastes of her. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. She tasted pure. And he desperately wanted to make love to her.
    Undone by her wildness, he grappled with her hands and lifted them above her head, pinning her against the back wall. This surprised her, and she gasped. He caught the sound and kissed her harder. Wetter. Longer.
    His body exploded in chaos as she responded in kind, pulling her arms free and rubbing her hands up his biceps, through his hair, making soft purring sounds against his mouth.
    She felt incredible. Incredible.
    He had never wanted anything or anyone more in his life. Molly. His tiny, sweet little gypsy. He wanted to hear her come undone for him, to lose control like she made him lose his.
    But did she really want this? Did she have any idea how serious he was about this, about her?
    “Molly,” he murmured tenderly, then he dived down her neck and twirled a wet path to her delicate collarbone.
    “Don’t stop yet,” she mewed in a little helpless plea, her fingertips sliding back into his hair. “Please let me pretend for a little bit.”
    His insides twisted with foreboding. “Don’t you dare —” he came back up and shoved his tongue into her mouth, taking all of her taste, taking all that she could give “—pretend that I’m my brother.”
    But that tormenting thought now held him back like an iron chain, and he had to rest his forehead against hers with a groan, his breaths jerking in and out as he fought to get a grip. Suddenly, the reminder that Molly was making out with him to make his brother jealous gnawed a hole the size of Texas into his gut.
    But her slim arms still clung to him. Her face was still tilted up to his in offering. And he could hardly think straight while she looked up at him as if she adored him.
    “You look thoroughly kissed, Molly,” he rasped. He cradled her beautiful face with his big hands, drinking up the dewy desire that softened her features.
    She licked her lips, her pupils dilating as her gaze darted from his eyes to his mouth, up and down, up and down. He could